Talk to Your Friend
by NerdBurga
Summary: Spoilers to 4x02! With Lancelot gone, Merlin is left feeling more alone than ever. His best friend, his true friend, the one he could always talk to, is gone. Merlin doesn't see the point in talking at all anymore. Oneshot.


**Hello again Merlin fandom! Warnings for extremely cheesy angst up ahead. Apologies in advance. I just really wanted to have a go at a reactionfic to Lancelot's death. Anyone reading Our Poor Merlin or Magic of Everyday Life, I'm going to try to get new chapters of them up tomorrow. Hectic week and all that.**

Six men rode with seven horses in complete silence. No words were said, for there was nothing to say. Nothing anyone could say. Nothing to make this better. Nothing would be better, not ever again. The veil was closed, but to Merlin, the world would never be light again.

Lancelot was dead.

Lancelot. Sir Lancelot. The peasant who had always deserved better, the knight he had finally become, the friend Merlin had never felt he deserved. He was gone, and with him, all that was most noble in the world.

Lancelot's horse was tied to Percival's, and it continued to snort and nod its head in apparent distress. Merlin wondered if it knew what had happened, if it sensed the sudden loss in the air. He wondered if it could ever understand what had happened. He wondered if it would be easier not to.

A sniffle escaped the large knight in front of him, and Merlin was harshly reminded of how he was not the only one who had lost a close friend. Percival had followed Lancelot all the way to Camelot, had allowed himself into a battle he had almost no business being in, and become a knight of a kingdom he had had very little to do with, and all because he had been loyal to Lancelot. He had trusted him. The man had obviously meant a lot to Percival too, if he had stuck with him through all that had happened.

Or maybe Lancelot's sense of duty had just begun to rub off on the other man. Merlin's numb mind concluded it was probably a mix of the two.

All the knights had lost someone dear today. Merlin knew that. He was not the only one mourning, not the only one who suddenly felt a gaping hole in his chest. Hell, the whole of Camelot would suffer the loss of such a knight. Merlin knew this and he tried to remember this, but it only made the anger and self-pity within him worse. Because no matter how much Merlin remembered others that had loved Lancelot, and whom had loved him (he shuddered to think of kind Gwen's reaction), he couldn't help the selfish idea that it was he who had lost the most. He hated himself for the traitorous thought, but it continued to bounce around his head all the same.

Back in Camelot, a fire was burned in honour, despite the lack of body, and speeches were said. Arthur's was all about what Lancelot had been to others, how important he had been to them all, what a sacrifice he had made.

But as Merlin listened, the anger grew. The dark thoughts festered in his mind, and he wanted to yell, and shout at everyone there. They didn't get it! They didn't understand! They hadn't lost like he had! Who else had such a secret as Merlin's, such a heavy burden that could not be shared? Who else had had one friend he relied on to share that burden, to make it lighter? Merlin had Gaius, and he knew this too; he always had Gaius, and Gaius was like a father to him. But it had not been since Will that Merlin actually had a _friend_ who knew what Merlin was dealing with every day, and even he hadn't ever really understood. A father was one thing, but a friend was another, and a friend was something Merlin had never felt quite just in having until Lancelot came along. Someone he did not have to lie to, to hide from. That was who Lancelot had been to Merlin, that was how important he had been, his sacrifice so much bigger than they knew; that of a secret that could kill them both.

And Lancelot had been taken from him, because Merlin could never have anyone he loved. Freya was gone, his father was gone, and now his best friend was gone. And the burden was once again doubled on Merlin's shoulders. And no one would ever even know.

Merlin's silence continued with him for the next few days. There was no "rise and shine, Arthur!", no "I don't feel like going to the tavern Gwaine", no "do I _have_ to clean the leech tank Gaius?" Only nods or shakes of the head, and even they were subdued. Merlin had the awful feeling if he opened his mouth to speak he would only scream and never stop.

And what was the point in speaking, anyway? To lie some more, to continue to pretend he was someone he was not? Or to blurt out the truth, like he had so wanted to since losing his friend, to just open up and spew it all forth to the first person to ask how he was doing, and condemn himself in the process?

No, it was better if he just remained silent.

And so it continued for a week. Most had stopped bothering trying to get a response from him. It had brought Gwen to tears when he refused to talk with her about how it happened, it had made Gaius look ten years older and sigh in defeat, it had made Arthur yell and throw an empty cup in a fit of grief-filled rage. But still Merlin did not respond.

* * *

It was halfway through the second week when Gwaine found him seated in the armoury, polishing the same shield he had only yesterday. Gwaine narrowed his eyes. The fight (or rather, one sided yelling match) between the king and his servant had been no secret, and Gwaine knew Arthur had been avoiding Merlin ever since, sending him on whatever chore or errand he could think of to keep from meeting his eyes. He knew Arthur felt guilty and unsure on how to fix things, but wished he would confront the problem instead of running his friend ragged.

Gwaine walked up next to Merlin and plopped down beside him, interlocking his fingers on the table before them. He couldn't even tell if Merlin had registered his presence; he just kept polishing and polishing the already shining metal.

"The rate you're going, Arthur should give you a raise," Gwaine said lightly. No response. No surprise. Gwaine looked to the wall straight ahead of him, various swords and axes hanging harmlessly, only watching Merlin out of the corner of his eye. "Merlin, I know - "

"Don't."

Gwaine glanced at his friend in surprise. The voice was raspy and low from disuse, but it was something Gwaine felt he would never take for granted again. Encouraged, he asked "don't what?"

Merlin shook his head. He hunched over the shield and muttered "don't tell me that you know what I'm going through. You know how I feel. You know - " Merlin's already wrecked voice broke further and he paused, seemingly trying to regain control of himself. When he spoke again, it was so quiet Gwaine feared he was already withdrawing back into silence. "You don't know."

Gwaine shook his head and pretended not to notice the sudden glistening in Merlin's eyes. "Wasn't what I was going to say. Let a guy finish, mate." Merlin flashed him a wary look before focusing back on the shield. Gwaine, on his part, went back to looking at the wall. "I know he was special to you, Merlin. I know… I know he was your best friend." And boy wasn't that hard to admit. "I know you two shared things - I don't know what," he quickly added, seeing the sudden tension in Merlin's shoulders, "but I know you too were close." There was a moment of silence where Gwaine took a deep breath and Merlin's hands shook over the metal. "You were right. I don't know what you're going through. Lancelot was a good man, but… I didn't know him like you did. And I'm sorry."

Merlin finally froze, the cloth going limp in his hand. He continued to stare down, avoiding Gwaine's gaze, and Gwaine could no longer ignore how tears were beginning to make tracks down his friend's face. "I'm sorry for your loss, Merlin."

Without warning Merlin was up off his stool and turning to the door. He was running. Gwaine couldn't let him anymore. He reached out and grabbed Merlin's wrist, grounding him, forcing him to stop. "Merlin. Please. _Please_ just talk to me." Merlin's whole body was trembling and he continued to look away. He didn't open his mouth. Gwaine felt frustration grow but he forced it down as best he could. "Hell, don't even talk to me if you don't want, mate. Just talk to someone. Please._ Please _Merlin."

Gwaine was not a man who begged. When he had been held captive by Jarl the slaver and forced to fight to survive, he never begged. When he had been banished from Camelot, forced to leave behind his first true friend, he had not begged. Even earlier, when he was growing up, and didn't always have food on the table or someone to protect him from the older boys, he didn't beg.

But now, Gwaine was begging, and he would readily admit it if he had to. Because Merlin, his friend, his best and most true friend, was spiralling, and if he didn't stop soon he would be lost forever. Gwaine couldn't let that happen. He needed Merlin back. And if that meant begging, he would get on his knees and grovel.

"Please just talk, Merlin."

Finally, Merlin rounded on him. "What's the point?!" His eyes were now red, his cheeks flushed, and Gwaine let go of his wrist. "What can I even say?! What could possibly be said that could make this better?" Gwaine remained still, letting his friend get it out. He needed a target, and that was something Gwaine could be. "Lancelot's gone! He's not coming back! That's on me! That's my fault! I finally had someone I didn't have to lie to, to cover in these half-truths, I could be myself! And now I've lost that, I've lost all of that, because that's what happens to anyone who gets close to me! They die, and I let them! How is talking going to make any of that better?!" Merlin paused, breathing hard, and his body began to sag with defeat. "How can I talk when talking's what hurts everyone the most?" His voice, having gradually gotten stronger as he yelled, had once again wavered and broken, and now Merlin looked away. Gwaine watched him, ready to catch him, for he looked as if he were ready to keel over.

Merlin's rant hadn't made a whole lot of sense to Gwaine. He assumed Merlin felt it was his fault because he was the one who sent for Lancelot in the first place, though the whole notion was ridiculous. As for whoever else Merlin had lost, Gwaine didn't know, but obviously Merlin felt they were his fault too. They would have to work on this guilt complex in the very near future, but for now, Gwaine realised, there had been enough talk. He stepped forward and when Merlin didn't flinch or back away, Gwaine reached forward and brought Merlin to him, wrapping his arms around the boy's skinny back. At first Merlin didn't respond, only remained still. Gwaine held him and finally he felt Merlin relax against him. Merlin shook and Gwaine could feel tears fall onto his shoulder, but he didn't let go. There they remained, for gods knew how long, and Gwaine couldn't help but feel almost relieved.

Finally they stepped apart and Merlin immediately turned away again, his face and neck red. Gwaine allowed a small smirk at the obvious embarrassment. "No wonder Arthur always calls me a girl," Merlin muttered half-heartedly.

"Ah yes, Arthur. About that." Merlin turned back to Gwaine but kept his eyes on the floor as Gwaine talked. "I believe it would be better for all if you two made up sometime soon. I swear the gloom's rubbing off on the whole castle."

"I wasn't aware we were fighting."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. "Arthur yelling his head off at you and then avoiding you like the plague isn't fighting?"

Merlin shrugged. "Didn't really noticed he was avoiding me."

"My, Merlin, you have been out of it," Gwaine said. He began walking back towards the door, slinging an arm over Merlin's shoulder and forcing him to walk with him. "I think it's time we started fixing things, hmm?"

Merlin looked carefully at Gwaine as they walked. Gwaine didn't know everything. He didn't know all that Lancelot had known, didn't understand like Lancelot did. But he didn't pretend to either, and yet here he was, still being Merlin's friend, still trying to help, to shoulder the load. It wasn't the same, and Merlin didn't know if it ever would be. But Merlin had to admit, after their talk, he really did feel a little bit lighter. Just that little bit of weight had been lifted, and here Gwaine was, readily carrying it.

Merlin had lost a dear friend. He had lost a true friend. But maybe, he hadn't lost his only friend.

**Aww look at them being all cute. I'm going to admit it's not my favourite piece I've ever written. But I just had to write it. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Thanks for reading :)**


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